Professor Mandrake
by Hamotron
Summary: Harry Potter's fourth year at Hogwarts is not going the way he expected. The Quidditch House Cup is canceled, Hogwarts has been placed under an owl quarantine, and visits to Hogsmeade are suspended until further notice. Where did mysterious school inspector John Mandrake come from, and could he have something to do with it all?
1. The Inspector's Arrival

_Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter._

 _A/N: We begin at the Welcoming Feast at the beginning of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Dumbledore has just begun to give the announcements..._

* * *

"So," said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered" ("Hmph!" said Hermione) "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched.

He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that Hogwarts has been placed under a quarantine with regard to owls. Until further notice, no owls may enter or leave the castle grounds."

" _What?_ " Harry gasped. Around the Great Hall, murmurings and mutterings had erupted. Harry turned frantically to Ron and Hermione. "Hedwig isn't back yet! I sent her to Sirius."

Ron winced sympathetically. Hermione bit her lip. "I'm sure it's just temporary, Harry. I'll look in the library tomorrow and see whether this has happened before."

"Why d'you reckon they did it, though?" Ron asked.

Throughout the Great Hall, the same question was being asked. One small Ravenclaw was crying, apparently overcome by the notion that he wouldn't be able to contact his parents. Ernie Macmillan could be heard loudly lecturing those nearest him at the Hufflepuff table; Harry distinctly heard the word "plague."

He turned to his friends, intending to laugh off the idea, but Ron was looking worried. "It makes sense, if they're sick."

"I'm sure they're not sick," Hermione said, glaring at Ron. "And if they are, Hedwig's outside. She's not in any danger."

This made Harry feel rather better, and he turned his attention to the dais again as Dumbledore held up a hand for silence.

"I am aware that this news is distressing to many students, and I wish to assure you that I and the rest of the staff are working as hard as we can to restore normal communications. Those with questions—"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder, and the doors to the Great Hall banged open. A petite man strode in, followed closely behind by Professor Snape. The stranger was, oddly, dressed in Muggle clothing: a black overcoat flapped dramatically behind him, and underneath it a closely-tailored suit was visible. Lace could be seen to spill from his collar and cuffs in the sudden bright illumination as a fork of lightning flashed across the ceiling. His face was young and pinched beneath a greasy black mane. He looked, Harry thought, rather as though he were imitating Snape's hairstyle.

The stranger made his way to the dais. He did not look at the students to either side of him, but kept his sharp eyes trained ahead. A storm of whispers followed him as he ascended the steps and extended a hand to Dumbledore.

"John Mandrake," he said in clipped tones, loud enough that it was obvious he intended everyone in the Great Hall to hear. "I've come from the Ministry of Internal Affairs to inspect this school."

Snape was right behind him. He spoke more quietly; Harry had to strain to make out the words. "I offered to escort him to your office, Professor, but he insisted on seeing you at once."

Dumbledore nodded and gestured for Snape to sit before turning his steely blue gaze on the stranger. The students fell silent. "Mr. Mandrake," Dumbledore said, his tone pleasant. "A most excellent dramatic entrance. We shall of course be happy to comply fully with your inspection. I will answer any questions you have, just as soon as the Welcoming Feast has concluded. Please, have a seat."

To the disappointment of the eager spectators, Mandrake sat obediently in the empty seat to Dumbledore's right. "Snape's livid," Ron whispered happily, and Harry saw that it was true—Snape's face was thunderous.

"Shh!" Hermione eyed them sternly as Dumbledore began to speak again.

"Lastly, I fear I must announce that the inter-house Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

Harry looked around at Fred and George, his fellow members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak.

"This is due to an event," Dumbledore continued, "that will take up much of the teachers' time and energy—but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. The details are currently being worked out and I will provide further information shortly.

"It is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Professor McGonagall. Hermione was frowning.

"House-elves again?" Ron asked, rather nastily.

Hermione didn't seem to notice. "Where's the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"What about _Quidditch_?" Harry asked as they stood with the rest of the student body and began to move toward the doors. "Hey- do you reckon this is what Percy was going on about?"

"Must be," Ron said. "It had better be good, that's all I can say. Or Fred and George might actually kill someone."

Hermione was frowning. "Something seems off about this event, don't you think? The teachers were all exchanging looks when Dumbledore mentioned it."

"Not to mention this Mandrake bloke," Ron said. They had reached the corridor in which the Fat Lady hung now, and joined the queue of Gryffindors waiting to climb through the portrait hole. "I've never heard of any Ministry of Internal Affairs."

Harry could not understand why they cared about school inspectors and mysterious events in the face of a serious crisis. He could not imagine going an entire year without Quidditch.

"Cheer up, Harry." Hermione smiled at him. "This is an opportunity, really. You can try a different club! Who knows, maybe you'll find you really like something else."

Harry had a sudden nasty vision of himself spending his free afternoons shut up in a dusty classroom, learning new and complicated spells 'for fun'. "Er, maybe," he said, trying to sound sincere. "Or maybe I'll spend some time practicing on my own, you know, keeping up my skills…"

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Password?" she asked.

"Balderdash," George said from behind them, "a Prefect downstairs told me."

The portrait swung forward, revealing a circular hole, which they climbed through. A crackling fire warmed the common room, which was full of tables and squashy armchairs. Hermione cast the merrily dancing flames a dark look, and Harry distinctly heard her mutter " _slave labor_ " before bidding them goodnight and disappearing through the doorway to the girls' dormitories.

Neville joined Harry and Ron as they climbed the spiral staircase to their dormitory. There, they all got into pajamas and climbed into bed. Harry placed his glasses carefully on his night table.

"Internal affairs," Ron said musingly. "I might write to my dad, see if he knows anything…"

"Can't," Harry said glumly. "Quarantine, remember?"

"Oh, yeah…"

"What about this event, though?" Neville sounded nervous. "Think it'll be some sort of test?"

Harry had not thought of this. For a moment his thoughts of Quidditch receded, to be replaced by the image of endless History of Magic exams, all filled with complicated essay questions that he couldn't begin to answer, and Hermione saying brightly, "Cheer up, Harry, this is an _opportunity_ , you know…"

And then, without his ever quite realizing that he had slipped into dreaming, he was looking at an overcast sky (the storm, it seemed, had blown itself out overnight) through the dormitory windows and Ron, already dressed, was shaking him awake and telling him that he had to get up _now_ , or he'd miss breakfast…

* * *

 _A/N: I'm very excited about this project. Thanks for reading!_


	2. Professor Mandrake

_A/N: I'm glad to see some interest in this story. :) We pick up today in the Great Hall, as Hermione allows herself nourishment once more..._

* * *

"I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights," said Hermione haughtily.

"Yeah… and you were hungry," said Ron, grinning.

There was a sudden rustling noise, and Harry looked automatically to the windows, but for the first time he could remember they were shut tight, and the noise he had heard was a first-year dropping a pile of parchment scrolls rather than owls swooping into the Great Hall with the day's mail.

"I'm sure Hedwig's all right, Harry," Hermione said.

There was a knot in Harry's stomach, and his porridge somehow seemed less appetizing than it had a moment before. "What about when I don't respond, though? Si- Snuffles might think something's wrong. He could even try to come check on me."

Ron was looking worried, but Hermione shook her head in exasperation. "Harry, Dumbledore isn't going to be cut off from the outside world just because he can't use an owl. If Snuffles is concerned, he'll ask Dumbledore, and Dumbledore will tell him that you're fine!"

This was true, and Harry felt immediately better. In fact— "Maybe I'll ask Dumbledore if he can send a message for me," he said.

"Good idea, mate." Ron looked up from his second plate of eggs and scanned the dais, frowning. "Still no Defense teacher. D'you reckon no one would take the job?"

Harry followed Ron's gaze. John Mandrake sat in what would have been the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's chair, frowning at his plate. He was wearing another tight suit, although his shirt possessed far less lace this morning. Harry watched as the inspector prodded at his food unenthusiastically with a golden fork.

"Weird, isn't he?" Harry said. "Wonder why he isn't wearing robes."

"I bet he's a Muggle," Ron said.

Harry and Hermione stared at him. "Can't be," Harry said at last. "Why wouldn't they just confund him and send him off?"

"Maybe they have confunded him. Look, he's not eating."

"Yeah, but he looks furious, not confused."

"We're too far away to see properly, that's all. I bet-"

Hermione made frantic shushing gestures at them both, cutting Harry off mid-sentence. "Dumbledore's going to speak!"

They turned their attention to the dais, where Dumbledore had indeed stood. A silence spread across the Great Hall as students nudged each other and pointed. "Good morning," Dumbledore said. Harry thought he looked tired; Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles seemed to be drooping on his crooked nose, and his long, white beard seemed slightly unkempt. "Some of you may have observed that the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor was regrettably empty as of last night. Fortunately, Mr. Mandrake—" Here Dumbledore gestured with toward the inspector, who looked up and gave a tight smile— "has agreed to fill in for the position during his time at Hogwarts. Mr. Mandrake has a great deal of experience in opposing the forces of evil, and I am sure that you will all treat him with the greatest respect.

"In other news, I fear that the owl quarantine will not be lifted until next week at the earliest. Additionally, I regret to announce that the first visit to Hogsmeade for older students has been canceled. Best of luck to all of you as you begin your lessons."

Dumbledore returned to his seat as conversation broke out among the gathered students. Ron let out a loud groan. "No Hogsmeade, no Quidditch…"

"No owls," Harry said. "D'you reckon it's all connected?"

They turned expectantly to Hermione, who looked rather pleased at this attention. "It does seem likely, doesn't it? I mean, Hogsmeade and the owls are both the only connections that we have to anything outside of Hogwarts."

This struck Harry as rather ominous, although he supposed that if he were to be trapped anywhere, Hogwarts would be his first choice. "And this Mandrake, how does he fit in?"

Hermione bit her lip, expression distant. "I don't know… it _does_ seem an odd coincidence, his showing up when he did. I do hope his lessons are all right. Next year is our OWLs, and we've hardly had a stellar Defense Against the Dark Arts program so far, have we?"

"Lupin was good," Harry said loyally. "And Dumbledore hired Mandrake, didn't he?"

"Yes, but Dumbledore hired Quirrell and Lockhart too, Harry."

"So maybe Mandrake _is_ a Muggle," Ron said, grinning. "I'd rather a Muggle than Lockhart, wouldn't you?"

Bickering pleasantly, they got up from the table and began to make their way to the double doors. Hermione stopped after only a few feet. "Is everything all right, Neville?"

Neville was staring at his schedule with an expression of despair. He started at Hermione's question and nearly knocked over his goblet. "Yes, fine, it's just I forgot some of my books, and Gran was supposed to be sending them by owl…"

"Well, you couldn't have known that they'd block the post, could you?" Ron said reasonably. "I bet loads of people can't get their books."

"Go to McGonagall," Hermione advised.

Neville nodded and stood stiffly, as though preparing for his own execution. "See you, then."

Hermione was looking worried as they navigated their way through the press of students and out toward the greenhouses. "Do you think I forgot anything? I left a stack for my parents to send, but—"

Ron rolled his eyes as Hermione began to list books she had _thought_ she wouldn't need right away, but now that she knew she couldn't get them until next week, she wasn't _certain_ that she had made the right selections. Harry thought it wise to change the subject before Ron could start a real argument, and hastily asked Hermione a question about the upcoming Herbology lesson. He was successful in derailing her, and they reached Herbology without further incident.

After Herbology was Care of Magical Creatures (Hagrid had discovered Blast-Ended Skrewts, which were unfortunately exactly what they sounded like). At last the bell rang and they made their way back up to the castle for lunch.

"Well, at least the Skrewts are small," said Ron.

"They are _now_ ," said Hermione in an exasperated voice, "but once Hagrid's found out what they eat, I expect they'll be six feet long."

Harry hoped fervently that Hagrid never would find out what the Skrewts liked to eat. "He's lucky Mandrake didn't show."

"I didn't think of that." Hermione shook her head. "Do you think they're _legal_?"

"Doubt it," Ron said as he helped himself to a large spoonful of potatoes. "Would _you_ want a Blast-Ended Skrewt as a pet?"

Harry was watching Mandrake, who once again did not seem particularly hungry. In fact, the inspector seemed distinctly worried; he continuously shot nervous looks at the other teachers and the students. When Nearly-Headed Nick and the Fat Friar passed through the room, deep in conversation, and exited through a solid wall, Mandrake's face turned white, and Harry saw him clutch his knife as though in self-defense. He did not think the man could possibly be a Muggle, but _something_ was certainly very strange about the inspector. Harry was almost relieved when, as he and Ron walked to the Divination tower (Hermione, who was no longer taking Divination, had gone to the library) he caught sight Mandrake disappearing around the corner directly in front of them.

"Looks like we're about to be inspected," Ron said. "Think Trelawney will last the day?"

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for reading!_


	3. Inspection

_A/N: Thanks everyone for reading! And I appreciate the compliments on my grammar. :) We begin today in the Divination tower..._

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"Good day," said the misty voice of Professor Trelawney right behind Harry, making him jump. She was peering down at him with the tragic expression she wore whenever she saw him. "You are preoccupied, my dear," she said mournfully. "And I regret to say your worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead for you, alas…"

"Excuse me." John Mandrake's voice, curt and official and rather higher than Harry would have expected, cut through Trelawney's sepulchral tones.

Professor Trelawney drew herself up and turned to face the inspector. "Mr. Mandrake, I presume?" she said with icy dignity.

"You presume correctly." Mandrake had a slightly ruffled look from climbing up the ladder—his cuffs, lacy once more, had a definite droop to them—but his self-possession appeared unaffected. He gave a small bow. "I am here on behalf of the Ministry of Internal Affairs to conduct an inspection of this institution. You are Sybil Trelawney?"

"Indeed." Professor Trelawney was looking at the inspector with outright dislike. Harry, who was beginning to feel that he had no more part in this conversation, made to join Ron, but was stopped by an imperious gesture from Mandrake.

"Excellent." Mandrake produced a slim notebook and pencil from his pocket, opened the notebook to a fresh page, and jotted something upon it. Harry stared; he had never before seen anyone use a writing implement other than a quill within the walls of Hogwarts. "And your subject?"

"Divination," said Professor Trelawney stiffly.

Mandrake scribbled again. He cast an eye over the classroom, taking in its poufs and armchairs and tea sets. He peered at the roaring fire. "Do you find that the heat stimulates the divining talents?"

Muffled laughter filled the classroom. Harry heard Ron snort.

"The inner eye can be sensitive to temperature," Professor Trelawny said in quavering tones.

"I see." Harry thought that Mandrake made rather a show of noting this down. There was a certain tension to him as he looked back up. "And the perfume?"

"A family secret," said Professor Trelawney haughtily. "The recipe is several hundred years old."

This had caught Mandrake's attention. His nostrils flared slightly, and for a moment his fist closed around the pencil in his hand. Then the moment passed, and he was sliding notebook and pencil back into his pocket. "Thank you for your time," he said briskly. "That will be all for today." He looked around, frowning slightly, and caught sight of Harry, who had been slowly edging back toward the rest of the class. "You, what's your name?"

Whispers broke out. Who in the wizarding world hadn't heard of _Harry Potter_?

"Harry, sir. Harry Potter." Harry was disgusted to find himself watching the inspector's expression, searching for some sign of recognition and feeling something uncomfortably close to disappointment when he found none.

"Come with me, please, Potter. Sybil, I must prevail upon you to excuse Potter from this lesson."

"Certainly," said Professor Trelawney, rather shrilly.

Harry cast a helpless look back at Ron, who grimaced sympathetically, and followed Mandrake down the Divination tower's ladder. The inspector did not speak as he led the way to the office usually occupied by the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and ushered Harry inside. The room was bare; this startled Harry, who had grown used to seeing the space filled with Lupin's belongings and creatures for his lessons. Mandrake seated himself behind the desk, folded his hands, and looked solemnly at Harry.

"Tell me, Potter, what do you think of the government?"

"Er…" Harry searched frantically for an answer. "The Muggle government or the Ministry of Magic, sir?"

Mandrake gave a thin smile. "The 'Ministry of Magic', Potter."

Had he winked slightly? Harry wished with all his heart that he had been quicker to get to his seat in Divination. Had this man been sent from Fudge to test the loyalty of the students at Hogwarts? Was this some sort of test administered to any who intended to become an Auror?

"Often incompetent, sir," Harry said finally.

"Indeed, indeed…" Mandrake drummed his fingers on the desk. "Sit down, Potter."

Harry put his bag down on the floor beside the only other chair in the room and took it. He sat on its edge, ready to leave at the earliest opportunity.

Mandrake leaned across the desk. His cologne was very strong; Harry felt his eyes begin to water. "Potter, would you be interested in an opportunity to serve your government?"

For a moment, before common sense reasserted itself, Harry entertained a fantasy that Mandrake had come from the Ministry to recruit Harry to the Aurors. But if that were the case, why would he be disguised as a school inspector? "I want to defeat Voldemort, sir."

Mandrake did not appear to be affected in the slightest by hearing Voldemort's name spoken aloud. "All things are possible, Potter, with the might of the government behind you. And there are more…immediate rewards as well."

Harry nodded, although he had no idea what Mandrake was talking about. He wished that someone would interrupt, someone who needed Mandrake desperately somewhere very far away from Hogwarts. He had a very bad feeling about the inspector. Could he be somehow connected to Voldemort? But no, his scar hadn't so much as prickled…

To his great relief, Mandrake stood and held out his hand. "Thank you for meeting with me, Potter. If anything comes to your attention of which you think that I should be made aware, do not hesitate to contact me. Anything at all."

Harry shook his hand, which was rather clammy, and hurried out of the room.

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 _A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter!_


	4. Malfoy

_A/N: We pick up today in the Great Hall..._

* * *

"Lots of homework?" said Hermione brightly, catching up with them. "Professor Vector didn't give _us_ any at all!"

"Well, bully for Professor Vector," said Ron moodily. Harry, who had just been told by Ron that he had a pile of homework to do based on a lesson he hadn't heard a word of, had to work hard not to add a scathing comment of his own.

They reached the Entrance Hall, which was packed with people queuing for dinner. Harry caught a glimpse of Malfoy over by the Slytherin table. He was deep in conversation with Pansy Parkinson and looked even paler than usual.

Harry nudged Ron. "D'you think Malfoy's looking a bit peaky?"

"Yeah, I guess…" Ron barely glanced at Malfoy; his attention was entirely taken up by the golden dishes of food that had begun to appear on the table.

Harry hesitated, then picked up his bag and stood. He edged his way around a crowd of Hufflepuffs as though making for the exit; halfway there, he slipped an ink bottle out of his bag and tossed it gently in the direction of the Slytherin table. The sound it made as it smashed was entirely swallowed up by the hubbub the students were creating. Harry swore loudly in case anyone was watching, and knelt to siphon the ink with his wand. He strained his ears… and yes, he could just make out what Malfoy was saying.

"…not a trick," said Malfoy irritably. "I tell you, just solid earth where the cellar used to be."

Pansy said something Harry couldn't quite make out. Whatever it was, it made Malfoy give a snort of derision. "Right, Dumbledore would fill in the cellar instead of just blocking the passageway. Honestly, sometimes you remind me of Goyle…"

Harry finished clearing up the ink and stood, his mind buzzing. Malfoy was hiding something, he was sure of that, but what? Where was this cellar that had been filled in? Could he be referring to one of the dungeons at Hogwarts? But why would Dumbledore wish to block access to a Hogwarts cellar?

Malfoy had referred to a passageway… he couldn't mean the tunnel under the Whomping Willow, could he? But no, that led to a shack, not to a cellar.

His musings were interrupted by Malfoy himself, who had risen while Harry was abstracted. He looked even worse close up; there were dark circles under his eyes, as though he hadn't slept at all the previous night. And were those grains of dirt in his blond hair?

"Lost your way, Potter?" Malfoy drawled. "Gryffindor table's that way."

"Thank you," said Harry coolly, and turned to rejoin Ron and Hermione. Before he had taken a step a hand fell heavily onto his shoulder.

"Well!" said Mandrake heartily. "What have we here?"

Harry turned back around to find Malfoy scowling, with Mandrake's other hand firmly clamped around his thin shoulder. "Potter seemed to be planning to spend the evening on the floor there, sir."

Mandrake looked at Harry, who said quietly, "Just cleaning up my ink, sir." His heart was hammering. The ink trick had been stupid, stupid and obvious. How much had Mandrake seen?

"It seems to me," Mandrake said pleasantly to Malfoy, "that it's none of your concern even if Potter _does_ intend to sleep on the floor."

Blood rushed into Malfoy's thin face. He did not seem to know how to deal with a teacher who would take Harry's side over his; he looked around as though for support, and not finding any settled for glaring at Harry.

Mandrake removed his hand from Harry's shoulder and snapped his fingers. A moment later a small grey shrew appeared in the palm of his hand. "This young man needs to learn some manners," said Mandrake, apparently to the shrew.

Harry did not see precisely what happened. There was a bang, and suddenly Malfoy was flat on his back on the floor, and the crowd of onlookers that Harry had not noticed gathering gave cries of shock and fear. Harry looked at Mandrake's hand in time to see the shrew lick a paw in a self-satisfied manner and simply disappear.

"Inspector Mandrake!" Professor McGonagall pushed her way through the crowd. The tip of her hat was quivering with fury.

Mandrake looked for all the world like a chastised student. One highly polished, pointed shoe poked nervously at the flagstones, and he did not seem to be quite capable of meeting McGonagall's eyes.

McGonagall stooped to examine Malfoy, who had not moved. "Unconscious," she said, and, straightening, beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle. "Carry Mr. Malfoy— _gently—_ to the Hospital Wing and inform Madam Pomfrey that he has been Stunned. Tell her that _Mr. Mandrake_ cast the spell."

Harry's brain, which had frozen, thawed slightly at this. Why would McGonagall, one of the most accomplished witches at Hogwarts send Malfoy to the Hospital Wing for a simple stunning? Why would it matter to Madame Pomfrey who had cursed him?

Professor McGonagall rounded on Mandrake, her eyes flashing. "This has gone quite far enough."

Mandrake was very pale and his foot continued its nervous scraping, but his voice was steady when he spoke. "I quite agree."

Harry noticed for the first time that the sizable crowd of students around them had withdrawn to form a ragged circle, of which Harry, Mandrake, and McGonagall were the center. He edged carefully back into the circle's front row. The two teachers did not seem to notice him.

"You will not play games with our students," Professor McGonagall said. "Is that understood?"

Mandrake flushed at this, and he spoke as though through gritted teeth. "Perfectly."

McGonagall fixed him with a final penetrating glare before turning and sweeping majestically from the Great Hall. Mandrake stared sulkily after her.

"Sir," said Dean Thomas, who was standing across from Harry, "that was _awesome_."

Mandrake rearranged his features, which had been appearing rather sulky, into a small smile. "Thank you."

The crowd of students, emboldened by Dean's still being conscious, surged around Mandrake with a sudden babble of sound. Harry turned and began to fight his way through to the doors of the Great Hall. He desperately needed to speak with Ron and Hermione.

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for reading! I really appreciate all the feedback._


	5. Escalation

_A/N: I'm a little busy lately, but updates are still coming. Thank you for reading!_

* * *

It occurred to Harry only when he was nearly back at the Gryffindor Common Room that Ron and Hermione might well still be in the Great Hall. But when he climbed through the Portrait Hole he found that instincts honed by years of friendship had been correct; Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in their favorite squashy chairs next to the fire. Hermione was bent over a pile of knitting and Ron was flipping through a book of chess topics.

Harry took a chair across from them. Ron immediately tossed the book aside. "What _happened_ in Mandrake's office earlier?"

Harry was far more interested in what had happened between Mandrake and Malfoy, but he quickly summarized his conversation with Mandrake for Ron and Hermione.

When he had finished, Hermione leaned forward and spoke in hushed tones. She looked very grave. "Harry, I think he was trying to bribe you."

Harry laughed. He looked to Ron for support, but Ron was nodding slowly. "You know, Harry, I reckon she's right."

"You have to go to Dumbledore," Hermione said firmly.

"And say what, Mandrake had a chat with me? If he was trying to bribe me, he didn't do a very good job of it. I don't even know what he would be bribing me _for_."

"Oh, Harry, sometimes you're _thick_." Hermione looked to Ron for confirmation, but Ron was looking as baffled as Harry felt. Hermione muttered something that sounded very much like " _boys!_ "

"Look, Harry, all that about 'immediate rewards'—don't you see? And telling you to contact him if you see anything. He wants you to be his spy."

"But why would the Ministry think I'd spy for them?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I don't know." She glanced down at her knitting and completed a few more stitches, obviously deep in thought. "You know," she said finally, "I'm not at all sure that Mandrake is from the Ministry at all."

"I said that," Ron mumbled, but Hermione was too deep in thought to notice.

"Harry, what happened when he inspected Trelawney's class? Tell me everything that you can remember."

"Er…" Harry tried to sort through his hazy memories of heat and perfume. "He came up the ladder, he asked Trelawney about the fire, and then he asked me to come back with him to his office."

"He wanted to know about the perfume," Ron added. He was looking put out.

"Hmm." Hermione tapped her quill thoughtfully. "What'd Trelawney say?"

"Some rubbish about an old family recipe," Harry said. "Does it matter?"

"I'm not sure yet." A familiar expression was forming on Hermione's face, and Harry was surprised when, instead of jumping up and running to the library, she rounded on him. "Harry, don't go to Dumbledore."

"Why not? I wanted to ask him about sending Snuffles a message, and you just said you wanted me to tell him about Mandrake."

"I've changed my mind," said Hermione briskly. "Something very strange is going on, and Dumbledore hired Mandrake in the first place. We shouldn't play our hand yet."

"Play our—Hermione, I just want to ask him if he'll send a note!"

"Dumbledore knows that Harry's worried about Si-Snuffles," Ron said. "It might look weird if Harry _doesn't_ ask him."

Harry shot him a grateful look as Hermione nodded approvingly. "Good thinking, Ron. Harry, ask Dumbledore about the note, but _do not_ mention Mandrake. All right?"

There was nothing for it but to nod meekly in return.

"Anyway," Harry said, his impatience returning, "what about _Malfoy_?"

Ron leaned back in his armchair with an enormous, satisfied grin. "I'll remember that moment forever."

Hermione was looking disapproving. "It doesn't seem right, for a professor to do that."

Harry hastily rearranged his features to be less triumphant. "He didn't even do anything, really. McGonagall wouldn't even have given him detention."

"I think he's wicked," Ron said firmly. "And did you see him writing with his wand, the showoff!"

"It's called a pencil, Ron," Hermione said in tones of exasperation. She gathered up her knitting and stalked off up the stairs to girls' dormitory.

Harry and Ron looked at each other. As one, they shrugged. " _Girls._ "


	6. The Witch's Passage

_A/N: Things have been crazy, but I'm still working on this. Thank you for your patience._

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Harry found it impossible to sleep that night. Finally, the moon shining brightly through the window beside his bed, he sat up and reached with his wand to poke Ron awake. "Malfoy looked _ill_."

"It's just that he's not getting treats from home, that's all," Ron said sleepily (Harry needed all of his four years of practice to make out the words). "I reckon I'm starting to look off-colour too."

Harry looked at Ron's bright red hair and freckles skeptically. He could not imagine anyone looking less off-colour, even when washed-out by moonlight. "He said something about a cellar having been filled in. Why would Malfoy be in a cellar?"

Ron's response was a resounding snore. Harry lay back in his bed, mind racing. Why did he feel as though he was missing something, something about a cellar, a cellar that a student might want to- "Ron!" Harry got out of bed this time and walked over to shake Ron awake. He had difficulty keeping his voice low as he said, "It's the Honeydukes cellar."

This led Ron, who was extremely fond of sweets, to sit up and look at Harry with an expression of bleary alarm. "How would he know about it? Did you lose the map?"

Harry hadn't thought of this, and he immediately knelt to root through his trunk by wandlight. He quickly found the scrap of parchment he was searching for, and brandished it triumphantly. "He must have found out some other way."

"Excuse me," Seamus said rather nastily, "but I thought this was a bedroom."

Harry and Ron both jumped, and Harry extinguished his wand hastily. He waited, kneeling on the floor by the trunk he had forgotten to close, for Seamus's snores to resume. He did not feel in the least bit sleepy. His mind was racing, trying to connect all of the pieces—Mandrake's arrival, the owl quarantine, Hogsmeade trips canceled until further notice, Malfoy's odd behavior…

Carefully, moving slowly so that he didn't wake any of his roommates, Harry felt through his trunk for his invisibility cloak. Clutching the slippery fabric to his chest, he stood and turned to see Ron watching him uncertainly.

"Harry," Ron said, "Mate… maybe you should leave this one alone."

Harry thought back to Mandrake's shrew and felt a thrill of nerves (he was used to magic, but there was something very foreign about Mandrake's spell). He shook his head firmly. "We need to find out what's going on."

Ron sighed, but got out of bed and put on his shoes. Harry, who had in his excitement forgotten entirely about his own shoes, hastily followed suit. The two boys tiptoed out of the dormitory, down the spiral staircase, and into the Gryffindor common room. Here they paused to throw the invisibility cloak over themselves.

"Should we wake Hermione?" Ron asked quietly.

Harry hesitated, but he was feeling rather heroic marching off in the middle of the night on a mission to save Hogwarts, and he suspected that a lecture from Hermione would puncture the mood entirely. "We'll tell her what we found tomorrow," he said, and led the way through the portrait hole.

The corridors were dim and quiet. Harry could hear the faint sounds of snoring portraits as they made their way to the statue of the one-eyed witch near the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He tapped his wand against her hump, whispered " _dissendium_ " and watched impatiently as the hump slid aside to reveal—

Ron muttered a word that Harry was quite certain Mrs. Weasley would have disowned him for. "What _happened_ to it?"

Harry could do nothing but stare at the solid wall of earth where the tunnel to Honeydukes had once been.


End file.
